


all i want

by mistiia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Bellamy Blake, John Murphy Is a Little Shit (The 100), M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistiia/pseuds/mistiia
Summary: Only letting himself squirm a little, he manages through the breathlessness that made its way to his lungs. “Get off me Bellamy.” It’s weak, Bellamy knows this too.“You really want me to?”-or, bellamy and murphy get stuck for the night, they work out their tension.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & John Murphy, Bellamy Blake/John Murphy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	all i want

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo this is my first shameless smut lmao. i wanted to write their characters like they know they have all this tension between them but they're still moving on from what happened in s1 and 2 lmao okokokok enjoy :)
> 
> not beta read

The light tapping on the ground bounces up from Murphy’s restless leg, heel dancing into the wet soil. Bellamy doesn't say anything if he notices.

Nerves aren’t the culprit, it’s a restlessness always coursing through Murphy’s veins. Hot like the threat of a glowing cow prod, feeling uncomfortable everywhere. He’s not felt safe ever since they landed and he made himself into the bad guy. It's not like he could help it - the itch to isolate himself outweighed his survival instincts multiple times, and even when it nearly got him killed he did it again and again.

He was never trying to get himself killed, and he has no idea what he did in a past life to keep him alive against all odds. But turning himself into an enemy as first meeting with the ground plays on his mind, even after redemption.

Even now, safe at a rendezvous point, armed to the teeth with a much more capable Bellamy Blake, his leg still shakes. 

Murphy shoots a glance at the man across from him, Bellamy is sturdy, one hand gripping the machine gun by the body, and the other reaching up to pet lazily through the base of his dark hair by his neck. Murphy can see the freckles littering the man's face from ten feet away and it makes him feel nauseous.

Somehow, his leg doesn't shake as much when he looks in Bellamy’s direction. But they don’t talk anymore, like the air went stale when Bellamy enabled his attempted hanging, and Murphy was willing to kill anyone to save his own skin. It sucked all the air out the room and now there is no conversation other than mumbled agreement and informing each other of plans.

The breeze drifting through the entrance of the cave does nothing to cool the heat Murphy feels on his neck, and he doesn't know when this started, can’t pinpoint the moment he saw Bellamy anything other than just Bellamy. Somehow after everything they went through, Murphy gained a conscience, and Bellamy is right in its crosshairs.

Murphy doesn't realise he looked way too long, because before he can even begin to drag his eyes away, those pair of sharp eyes are staring right back, something cold coils up in Murphy’s gut and his throat closes over.

“What are you looking at?” Bellamy says, deep and cautious like he sees something more than just a fool staring at him.

Murphy changes the subject completely, “Shouldn't they have come to get us by now?”

Bellamy blinks, lifts the arm resting on the gun up to look at his watch, “Yeah, maybe they ran into something. We can’t walk back… won't make it in time.”

It's unusual if someone doesn't make it back to the rendezvous in time, but the rules are to not travel at night, to find somewhere safe when the sun goes down and travel back at first light.

The cold coil in Murphy’s gut grows a little bit bigger, Bellamy remains unbothered, completely stoic.

“We don’t have our packs.” Murphy gets out, not sure what else to say, he just has to keep his mind off of spending a night alone with Bellamy. It's not that he's scared of the guy, he just doesn't want to be disliked more than he already is.

Bellamy meets his eyes, “We have the floor.” Deadpanned, and it's so obvious. Nice one Murphy.

“Yeah… Yea-” he cuts himself off, not wanting to sound like more of an idiot. 

He can’t sleep now, not even if he tried. He knows it, because his leg is still shaking, so Murphy rises to his feet and walks cautiously towards the entrance of the cave. Rain falls sparingly to the ground, not enough to halt the forest, but enough to get it wet enough it's dangerous.

“I guess we can’t make a fire then.” he says, mostly to himself, holding a palm open to the sky and letting the rain wash any dirt off. Bellamy hums in response, and Murphy hears the squeak of boots fast enough to get his heart sprinting before he even feels the presence behind him.

“I guess we're stuck here for the night,'' Bellamy says, close enough so Murphy can hear him without straining over the rain. “I’ll take first watch Murphy, you sleep. I'll wake you up in a few.”

Murphy just nods. Doing what Bellamy told him to do without saying a word. 

Shaking his shoulders out, Murphy kicks a few rocks out of the way and settles down, eyes wide open, back facing Bellamy.

Mind racing, full of irrational thoughts, Murphy is swept into a snowstorm of images flashing through his head. Surely he's sick right? His brain feels wiry, full of images of Bellamy, how he talks, how he walks, the way he stretches after coming back from scout and the slither of his stomach peaks through where his shirt lifts above his cargo pants. They way he always kept Murphy at arms length, nothing personal, in a ‘what's best for our people’ kind of way. Even after their many, many fistfights, no matter how many times Bellamy pummels Murphy's face, it's never personal. More like, punishment meets crime. 

Deep down Murphy already accepted that Bellamy didn't have a choice in what happened between them, he was just trying to keep everyone safe. It was Murphy that lashed out, if anything he did it to himself.

His eyes snap open, not from sleeping, but from somewhere in his head. The sound of light snoring made his bones grow cold. He can’t shake himself from the sound of Bellamy breathing.

Something manic takes over, normally Murphy’s mind is full of screams, full of the torment that happened to him, the torment that he caused himself. Full of the words from his Mother, the sad sounds of a crying child.

But it's so silent now, the breaths of sleep black everything out. Even the sound of the rain is crystal clear.

Rolling over and twisting himself so he’s opposite his team mate, the other is sleeping. Moon casting blue hues onto one side of his sleeping face. Eyelashes elongated by shadows and the peacefulness of sleep smoothing the crease that always seems to be between his brown. Bellamy is slumped against the cave wall, head tilted down and chest rising with every soft snore that passes through his nose.

Murphy pulls a leg up towards his chest and lets out a shaky breath. A bitter draft flushes through the cave again, and Murphy’s jacket does nothing to keep it out, cuddling in on himself does nothing to ease the cold.

“What are you looking at?” 

Murphy jolts, head whipping to see Bellamy holding his gaze much stronger this time, he said it with so much bite this time, harsh as a gunshot. Murphy’s throat goes dry, clenches up on itself and does nothing to help.

Bellamy uses his knee to push himself off the floor, stalking over to where Murphy sits, paralised.

“You've been looking at me funny all day.” Comes out like another shot, Bellamy fixes how his jacket is sitting on his shoulders. “Got something you wanna say to me?” 

“I uh-” Murphy chokes out, breaking eye contact. “No..”

“Then why do you look like you're hiding something? This got something to do with the rest of the team not showing up?” Bellamy is hardened, like the shine off the edge of a dagger, towering over Murphy intimidating enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

“No, no nothing to do with the team.” Sucking in a drowning breath he spits it out, anything to not end up on Bellamy's bad side again. “I just- Fuck.” 

“What then.” Bellamy grips the gun still wrapped around him a little tighter, like he’s waiting for the worst news.

“I just thought you looked kind of peaceful.” 

Bellamy’s eyebrows twitch, jaw going a little slack like that was the last thing he’d ever expect to come out of Murphy’s mouth. It probably was, the shame that takes over Murphy feels crushing. He can't even think about what the taller must have thought as he wraps in on himself.

“It's rare these days.”

Bellamy steps closer and Murphy's blood thickens, hairs standing up on end like a spooked cat.

“You thought I looked peaceful..?” He sounds cynical. Murphy wishes he didn't say a word at all.

But then, there is a hand in his hair, tugging at the roots and forcing his head back, Bellamy crouched down so they were face to face, breathing distance. They’d had this type of interaction once before on the Ark, never again since. It's always the older to initiate it though, completely stoic most of the time, but flips in a second.

Murphy always seemed willing though, and it should bother him more than it actually does. 

With a sharp jolt, Murphy pulls against the grip on his hair to get closer in Bellamy’s face. The man never falters, “Take a fucking complement.” 

Lashing out has always been the quickest defense mechanism for Murphy, he can’t seem to control it and it's always the thing that he regrets most. Gambeling with his own fate when he’s ashamed.

Bellamy smirks the smallest bit, doesn't even let it settle on his face before his brows crunch and he yanks the hair in his grip.

“Since when did you go all soft huh?” Eying him up and down, Murphy feels vulnerable under the scrutiny of Bellamy’s raking eyes. 

Only letting himself squirm a little, he manages through the breathlessness that made its way to his lungs. “Get off me Bellamy.” It’s weak, Bellamy knows this too.

“You really want me to?”

That tone again, it's knowing, pointed and full of motive. Like he knows Murphy is going to fight this until the last second.

Instead, the younger looks down. The words in rebellion won’t come out, it wouldn't be true, the effect Bellamy has on him, intimidating but so safe- a spell that won't let him lie. He can’t look up, he can’t lie, he would never seriously fight anymore, it leaves a thick feeling hanging over him; a hug.

“You say the word Murphy and I’ll let go.” Bellamy says.

Murphy lets a small puff of air leave his nose, meets Bellamy’s eyes, but says nothing.

Bellamy clicks his tongue, taking one last look over Murphy’s face and releases the grip on his scalp, standing up tall. Looking up from the floor Bellamy is all consuming, shame sets somewhere deep in Murphy’s bones, he shouldn't be feeling the heat on the back of his neck in a freezing cold cave when the realisation dawns that when he looks up, his face is level with Bellamy’s pelvis.

“You okay?” Bellamy’s voice comes out rough, strained; still caring. Bellamy always just wants to make sure everyone’s okay at the end of the day. 

“Yeah.” Murphy meets honey eyes, mind swirling, since when does he care if I’m okay?

Swallowing, Murphy rearranges himself on the floor, mouth beginning to salivate just a little bit, he feels like he should fight back, try to take control. Deep down he knows he wouldn't want to, they both know who’s in control.

“On your knees then.” That’s an order, but somethings stirring inside.

“Go fuck yourself Bellamy.” he spits, but the bite was never there.

Bellamy grunts, leaning forward. Murphy knows this isn't a game - the magnet between them is way too obvious to play hard to get now, yet still, Murphy can’t let himself give in completely. He knows it's no use, and they both know they’re both going to give in eventually, struggling just makes happen longer.

“That's your job Murph.”

And all of the sudden their positions are stark, Bellamy towers over the younger, his neck strained to even look up. The feeling of fingers sliding around the back of his head ignites a ticking bomb, and the sudden scratch of the material from the crotch of Bellamy’s trousers collides with his face.

Jerking, Murphy kicks against the ground, feigning an escape from where Bellamy pushed the younger's face into his crotch. Skin electric, and a feeling more similar to arousal takes over his stomach, burning and coiling. His nose is pressed into Bellamy’s crotch. 

Murphy loaded this gun, put it to his own head; and it's the excitement of trying to run away that makes his heart race. 

“I said on your knees.” It’s lethal, Bellamy’s voice sends needles instead of words.

Huffing out, ashamed of how bad he wants it, the sounds of Murphy getting to his knees get lost in the breeze. Bellamy makes a similar noise, but from the feeling of a face pushed against his groin.

The cold from the muddied floor seeps through his cargo shorts, yet his body is running so hot Murphy doesn't care.

“Open your mouth for me yeah?” Bellamy begins, fumbling with the button of his pants until they fall down to the middle of his thighs. 

Murphy's throat tightens up on its own, he knew Bellamy was decently sized, but now that it was right in front of his face, nerves regress him into something a little scared.

“Why do I always have to ask you twice?” 

“I- I uh,” Murphy looks up to see Bellamy, unimpressed, dangerously attractive; Murphy would do anything for him. So he opens his mouth.

The tip slides in easily, missing the pinch from his teeth, Bellamy grips the back of the younger's head and pushes until his cock hits the back of his throat. The urge to gag comes strong, choking him until he places his palms on both of Bellamy’s thighs and begins to push back.

“Stop.” Bellamy orders, pushing back harder and the tip slides into the top of his throat. “Relax Murphy.”

He does, only a little, his hands remain on Bellamy’s thighs but he doesn’t push anymore. A strained noise leaves his throat, enough to stop him from gagging; some part of him would prefer to gag than make that pathetic noise again. The weight in his throat is comforting, though it doesn't feel all that great (maybe it's just the gesture), makes his choke, makes tears fill up in his eyes - but it's Bellamy.

“There you go.” Bellamy says it mostly to himself as he begins to thrust lightly. 

Murphy gets lost in the movement of it all, he’s making Bellamy feel good, that's enough to stir his own movement in his boxers. So different than the last time, last time was just a high hookup that was good at the time but they could never really look at each other the same when they realised they were both on the ground. Plus the last time they didn't have the weight of trying to kill each other a dozen times or so. 

Tears begin leaking out of the corners of Murphy’s eyes as Bellamy’s thrusts get a little more desperate, the end of his cock leaking salty pre-cum down the back of his throat, if he looked up Bellamy would be looking straight back down with care, brows furrowed not trying to hurt the younger; shaking lightly as no not ram the kids throat and let all his desperation out.

“Fuck.” It's shaky, Murphy chokes again and a small whine passes through his wet lips. 

It all proves too much, and Murphy would have laughed at how fast Bellamy came; but he’d heard the rumours from girls on the Ark, he never finishes fast, and he can’t even begin to process what that would mean. The painful grip moves to the back of Murphy’s neck and Bellamy shoves his cock so far down Murphy’s throat he chokes, squirming and pushing as Bellamy’s load spurts into his throat.

“Fuck you Bellamy.” Murphy gasps, breathless as he falls onto his hands to catch some air. Bellamy laughs, buckles his pants back up, and pets the top of Murphy’s head lightly.

“You okay?” He asks again, like he's scared Murphy will say no.

“Yeah, yeah just gimme a minute.”

Small sounds of Murphy putting himself back together ripple slowly.

“Thanks.” They both say, at the same time.


End file.
